Yeah, there’s all kinds of things wrong with the title of this post.  I see it.

A while back we were visiting some friends when an older child made one of those sweet impulsive gestures that kind children make and offered Màiri one of her old dolls.  The exchange happened before I even knew anything about it.  After the fact with my glowing girl holding her new baby I was asked if it was ok…to which, as I looked at this plastic doll, while thinking of all of our lovely Waldorf ones at home, I probably replied something along the lines of, “err, uhm, yeah, yeah of course it’s fine.  How kind of you!”  But it kind of caught me off guard, I confess, as this is not a situation we’ve ever had before.  People don’t think to give little boys dolls, so we lived in our little cloth doll exclusive world for 13 years or so.

And then Boobie came along.  Yes, Boobie.  That’s what the Wee Girl named her.  Though I don’t think it’s what everyone else reading this thinks it is, as we don’t usually use that term in this house.  I think it’s just a variation on “Baby”.  Like if you were baby talking to a baby and called them a “cute little bubby” or well, “boobie”.  For the sake of people in public staring at us less I try to encourage the alternate pronunciation (bubby), but of course everyone else in the family thinks the name is hysterical and corrects her if she (or I) ever says anything other then Boobie.  So Boobie it is.

And for quite a while she became a great favorite with Rosebud.  As hard for me to accept as it was that the doll she loved, truly loved, wasn’t the beautiful handmade German doll that I bought her as an infant, or the doll that I stayed up all night hand-sewing for her second birthday, or even the rag dolls that her grandmother sent her, all which are soft and sweet and cuddly, but this thing that poked her in the ribs waking her up, when she rolled over in her sleep.  It’s change a bit lately and she’s gone back to playing with her other dolls too, but it looks like Boobie will be a fixture for a long time coming.

Once upon a time a little girl who loved a doll named Boobie was very, very cranky.  She woke up cranky and stayed cranky all the morning long.  Finally her mama decided that something had to be done.  She told the little girl to go fetch her basket of yarn.  When the little girl came back her mama told her to pick out what yarn she wanted for some clothes for Boobie.  The little girl got very excited and sorted through every last ball until she decided just what she wanted.  Then she told everyone in the house that it was Boobie’s birthday and that they all had to come to the party.  There was a dress code; everyone had to wear blue because apparently that is Boobie’s favorite color.  And lots of pretend food.  And a little bit of real food.  And lots of decorations and setting up.  The little girl spent the rest of the day making grand birthday plans and forgot to be cranky.

And while her birthday knits (a sweater and pair of pants) weren’t done that very day, Boobie had 4 or 5 more birthdays that week, so it was easy to sneak them in to one of the celebrations.  While she may not be made of wool, at least I can take some consolation in covering as much of her in wool as possible.  Though I must say that I’m rather glad the Wee Girl seems to have forgotten about the yellow linen dress and green wool sunbonnet (?) that I was also supposed to knit.